


Never Love An Anchor

by Ten_thousand_miles



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal (TV) RPF, Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Abigail Hobbs is Will Graham's Daughter, Canon Compliant, Garrett Jacob Hobbs is who Author is projecting their former abuser on, Hannibal ISN'T ABUSIVE because I said so, Multi, My therapist said I should write to process trauma, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Someone Help Will Graham, Trans Male Pregnancy, Trans Will Graham, author is projecting, not by choice im so sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:06:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29324427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ten_thousand_miles/pseuds/Ten_thousand_miles
Summary: I tried to do the best that I could but try as I might I couldn't bring myself to hold you; so I did the only thing that I could and severed the rope to set you sailing from my harborA broken-hearted and traumatizing tale of events a young man survives and tries to forget... until he's faced with coping with killing the man who broke him 19 years later & balancing becoming a father without anyone knowing how this whole problem ties back to the pain he's lived through.
Relationships: Will Graham & Garrett Jacob Hobbs, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Never Love An Anchor

**Author's Note:**

> _There are times where I still wonder about you  
>  you are someone I have loved but never known  
> And you'll never see the reasons I had  
> For keeping my claws away when they were close enough to hurt you_
> 
> //TW|CW// Implied non-con in the past, PTSD, implied forced child-bearing

Will paced the length of the second-floor bookshelf in the Doctor’s office, trying his best to ignore any comments the man makes. He’s sick and tired of hearing about the Shrike. Every five minutes he’s being bombarded with some sort of remark on catching him, or his opinions on the matter. He doesn’t care- he doesn’t want to be a part of any of it after the case has been closed. Jack had frequently requested he get evaluated after the event but he was, in his mind, perfectly fine. Nevertheless, he found himself wandering into Hannibal’s office with a begrudging scowl stained upon his face. If Jack persists, Will may just lash out right then in there, so it’s better in the long run to appease the man. 

“Your psychological evaluation. You are totally functional and more or less sane. Well done.” the doctor states, looking up at Will 

“Did you just rubber stamp me?”

“Yes. Jack Crawford may lay his weary head to rest knowing he didn’t break you and our conversation can proceed unobstructed by paperwork.”

“Jack thinks that I need therapy.”

“What you need is a way out of dark places when Jack sends you there.”

“Last time he sent me into a dark place, I brought something back.”

Hannibal pauses for a moment, thinking about all the implications of Will’s statement before starting something simple. “A surrogate daughter?”

Silence. Will could feel his heart beating in his ears, and he can’t remember the last time he breathed. No, Hannibal knew nothing. He has no clue of the dark places Will has seen. He’s never seen him at his worst, and never will. Will chooses not to respond to Hannibal’s question, pained by his knowledge of the situation.

“Killing Hobbes felt just, Doctor Lecter, but I’m not insane. I’m not broken. This is a waste of our time and Jack will learn to cope.” Will retorts once he breaks his silence. Killing Hobbes didn’t just feel justifiable, it felt righteous. It’s what the man deserved for what he’s done. Will is surprised his impulses have been kept at bay for this long given his history. Though, he’d never tell Hannibal of how many times he’s fantasized about watching the life drain from Hobbes’ eyes for the past 19 years. 

Will decided to come down from the second level, sitting in his chair while trying to collect and distance himself from his thoughts. It wasn’t a lie when he said that his ‘thoughts are often not tasty’ to the other when they met, and reconciling with the fact was harder than it had been in years. He thought he’d forget, it had been 19 years after all, yet it still feels like the long, painful wound on his abdomen was spewing blood as it did years ago. Like the nights at the hospital, and hearing the worse news to come at the time.  
It felt no different than years and years ago when Will slept soundly after the ordeal to see the little girl in the cradle beside him as it is to fall asleep in the room next to her now. So much had changed, yet here he is, sitting in the psychologist’s office trying to pretend the ‘surrogate’ daughter didn’t affect him as deeply as it does. Doctor Bloom seems to think he’s becoming obsessive as he takes on the role of caring for Abigail… but what else could he do? It is in his nature to care for her, after all. Jack knows, Jack knows far too much for Will’s liking. Yet he encourages seeing Abigail despite Doctor Bloom’s desperate attempts to make sure Will doesn’t try and become a ‘surrogate’ father to the girl. Hannibal seems indifferent on the matter, though it seems he feels paternal just as Will does. 

“Killing Hobbes felt good to you. Killing must feel good to God as well. He does it all the time, and are we not created in his image?” Hannibal hums, nonchalantly saying such a thing as he observes Will’s state. Will looks as if his thoughts are running a mile a minute, and perhaps such a statement could calm him.

“Depends on who you ask. God kills for pleasure, I killed out of necessity to save lives and avenge those he has wronged.” 

“Yet he never wronged you, Will,” Hannibal observes, watching Will fidget in his chair as the conversation continues. As usual, the profiler seems to be an enigma just when you wish to understand him, “Why such a strong feeling akin to vigilantism for this man in particular?”

Silence again. This time without the cover of looking over each hardback cover that interested him. “Because of Abigail.” he whispers, looking down at the floor, “because she deserved a better life. One her father couldn’t give her.” 

“How do you know this? You are not her father, though I do agree that her raising could have been better, so why such a strong feeling to her?”

Will let out a laugh at Hannibal’s statement, retorting back with: “Sometimes I feel like I am”, sighing after the fact. “Because I feel obligated, doctor Lecter, by forces we can’t rationalize.” 

“Feeling paternal, Will?” Hannibal inquired, leaning in a bit more as Will leaned back in his chair. 

To will, that was the understatement of the year. Of course, he is feeling paternal, he always has. He didn’t have a choice, he just feels, and he feels strongly. “Aren’t you?” the profiler quipped, wishing to deflect the fact that there’s more under the seams. 

“Yes. but you do not need to assume the role of the father. You cannot be there for her as her father was, though that may be a blessing. You’re putting more of a burden on yourself than you can handle at the moment.” 

Will scoffed at being told that he couldn’t be there for her as her father did. The psychologist truly knows nothing. “Don’t you think I know that?” he states, his tone full of bitterness, and underneath it, guilt. “Do you think I haven’t thought about a different life for her? One where she would grow up nurtured and never have to deal with the trauma of Hobbes? One with her rightful father-” 

Fuck. 

Will stopped speaking, looking at the other with wide eyes. Too much. He’s said too much and now he can’t take it back. Hannibal's eyes are on him with a confused and piercing gaze and it's too much for the younger man. Taking his coat, Will stands up and begins to exit. He can't explain this, not now. Not to anyone else, preferably, but it seems that won't be the case. 

"Have Agent Crawford fill you in," Will says, looking over his shoulder and opening the door to exit the doctor's office, "Good night, Doctor Lecter." 

He left without another word.


End file.
